


A monster who wasn't

by Anonymous



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bamf Waylon Park, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Eddie gets medicated properly, Eddie gets therapy, Escape from Mount Massive, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Schizophrenic Eddie Gluskin, Slow build Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park, Trans Waylon Park
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Waylon quickly realizes that the only way to escape Mount Massive, is to cooperate with Eddie.He's not anticipating the fact that once properly medicated, Eddie seems to come out of his fugue, violent state of The Groom, revealing a gentle, charming man from underneath.His heart never stood a chance.





	A monster who wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy ^^

Groggy, with his mind fuzzy, Waylon wakes up in increments. His ears feel like they’ve been stuffed full of cotton balls, everything quiet and dream-like. The surroundings are lowly lit and dark from the corners, blurred beyond recognition. There’s an ache in his feet that feels like it’s thundering through his body, roaring wave of pain that gets more intense as he regains full consciousness.

He gasps, head lolled against something soft and sturdy, warmth seeping through one side of his body, as his other half is rapidly cooling down.

‘’There now darling,’’ a voice says gently, jostling him. ‘’Let’s get you undressed for now, hm? Get off this unsightly hair. Make you feel more like yourself again.’’

Waylon blinks. He looks down to his body, and realizes with dawning horror just where he is. 

Eddie’s strong, deft hands are undressing him skillfully, goosebumps littering his skin the more of him is revealed. He’s in the groom’s lap, the crazy man’s body like a furnace in contrast to the chilly air of his workshop. The dreaded table with the saw is on to their left, injecting terror into him the second his eyes rest on it.

He makes a sound of protest or fright, he’s unsure, but with his limbs still numb and heavy, he cannot do a thing to stop the proceedings. His head rests impotently against the groom’s shoulder, shaking and trembling.

Eddie shushes him with soft baritone of his voice. ‘’Shh, now darling. Let me take care of you, hm? I’m sorry, for my vulgar outburst earlier. I must’ve frightened you greatly.’’

He’s only wearing underwear under the patient’s outfit, and it doesn’t take long at all for the man to rid him of clothing. His body is lithe and bony, his skin ghostly white compared to Eddie’s darker tone. Where the groom is muscled and big, Waylon feels like a gangly, small fawn as he sits in the man’s lap. If Eddie so wished, Waylon thinks he could break him in half with just a snap of his fingers.

Eddie’s voice rumbles in his chest, his tone all silk and soothe as he pets Waylon’s stomach, the sharp bones of his hips, the patient’s outfit dropping to the ground. ‘’But I’ve caught you now. I promise, I’ll make an honest woman out of - ‘’ the man quiets down suddenly, and Waylon sees him taking in his chest.

His body is badly bruised, with blacks and purples blooming all over, but the groom’s interest lays elsewhere. A gentle finger comes to caress the scars of his top surgery, the lines faded pink and white under his flat breasts. The man’s brows are furrowed in confusion. ‘’I don’t remember doing this,’’ he mumbles to himself. ‘’I do not remember touching you here at all.’’

Waylon shrinks back as well as he’s able to, preparing himself for violence. He’s seen first hand how prone to fits of rage the man is, how quick his temper flares. 

‘’Who did this?’’ Eddie snarls, just as Waylon predicted, his big hand moving to grip at Waylon’s arm tightly. _Too _tightly. ‘’To whom have you been whoring yourself to? You disgusting slut!’’

‘’A doctor!’’ Waylon croaks, shutting his eyes tightly, his body strung. His mouth is dry and tastes like iron and rot. ‘’I visited a doctor!’’

This seems to confuse the groom even more, though his grip goes slack. As quick as his temper flares, it is soothed. ‘’What kind of doctor cuts away a woman’s breasts?’’

_The kind that knows I’m not a woman, _Waylon thinks desperately, curling into himself. He doesn’t respond to Eddie’s question, and the man doesn’t seem to even want a reply. Hot tears spring up to his eyes, silently rolling down his cheeks. 

_Oh god _, he thinks, the dark of the room oppressive as he braces himself for whatever comes next, he _doesn’t want to die here _.

Eddie seems to take this as distress of losing a part of his femininity. ‘’Well. I’ll fix things up for you darling. Do not worry. Ah, don’t cry now,’’ he coaxes easily. ‘’Just a couple snips here and there, getting out your ugly, filthy vulgar pits, and some stuffing to your chest, and we’ll be able to get married, love. Just you and me. We’ll be so happy, you’ll see.’’

Waylon is then maneuvered like a rag doll to the grimy, blood-stained table. He’s gaining back his strength little by little, but the pounding headache in his temples makes his vision swim. He fights back feebly. ‘’No,’’ he croaks, ‘’Please, god no.’’

‘’It’s alright, darling. Women, you see, have to go through a lot of pain in their life. But it is fleeting, I suppose. You’ll have me here to support and care for you, after all. Just think of our children. What wouldn’t a parent do for their little ones, hm?’’

Eddie quickly ties his hands to the wooden handles at each side of the head of the table, making sure Waylon cannot escape.

Quietly crying, Waylon writhes and squirms in his bonds, but in vain. The groom walks slowly to the end of the table where the saw looms, his hands never leaving Waylon’s body. They caress his chest, his hairy stomach, trailing down to his thighs and legs, until they stop at his feet.

Eddie huffs, the sound a little put upon. ‘’I know that this is scary for you. But please. Try to endure. It won’t take long at all before I’ve cut these unsightly bits off of you, so I can make a place to plant my seed upon, to help you conceive a little child. I wouldn’t try to move too much, or I might cut a wrong place,’’ he says disapprovingly.

‘’Please,’’ Waylon pleads in a whisper, ‘’Please let me go.’’ He’s seen what the groom does to his victims. The mutilation, the torture. He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to be here, he wants to go _home _.

Eddie tsks, shaking his head. The gentleness has vanished from his eyes, only frustration and the early sparks of anger remaining. ‘’None of you ever make things easy,’’ he spits. ‘’Always with the crying and pleading. It’s just a simple procedure. Nothing else. You won’t even stay conscious.’’ Then he forcibly yanks down Waylon’s remaining underwear, already sneering in preparation of the sight he’s about to see.

The expression, however, drops from his face as the garment is off. Instead of the crude sight of a cock and balls, he was greeted with a hairy mount of a vagina. Soft, delicate folds of the pink vulva stretched open as Eddie holds Waylon’s legs apart. The groom freezes. His eyes roam Waylon hungrily, in awe. It must have been years since Gluskin has seen anything else but his fellow inmates’ naked groins. Waylon has no idea if the mental institutes Eddie used to occupy had women in them, but at least this Mount Massive facility was all-male only.

‘’Darling,’’ the man breathes, a warm, affectionate sound. ‘’You. You _are _indeed perfect. I knew it, from the moment I laid my eyes upon you, that there was something different about you. Something _special _.’’

His breath hitching, Waylon chances a look at Eddie. The man smiles at him, wide and joyous. Waylon sniffs weakly, his lips trembling.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but before he has a chance, there’s a crack of the door being crashed down as a variant charges into the room, colliding with the groom. There’s an angry shriek, the hard fall of Eddie’s frame crushing the wooden handle, enabling Waylon to wiggle free from his restraints. 

‘’It’s a woman!’’ someone hisses, victorious. Another variant, lingering at the doorway, staring at Waylon’s naked form. ‘’There’s a real woman! The Groom’s got himself a wife!’’

Waylon skitters away from the patients, escaping through the only door he sees open and empty. It’s where Eddie must’ve come in from earlier, leaving an opening for himself. Eddie roars somewhere in the background, furious and manic, spitting out profanities at the other patient.

Managing to dodge the blistered hands of the inmates trying to grab him, Waylon runs down the long, low lit hallway. The generators must still be up and running, with all the lights flickering in and out, he thinks. If Gluskin is able to use a table saw and the kitchen had its refrigerators still operating, then the spare generator must have been spared from the variants’ wrath.

‘’Grab her!’’ a voice shouts from behind him, and Waylon spares just a small glance back to see patients emerge from the shadows to start tracking him. Eddie’s turf seems to have been the safest in the patients minds, if the amount of injured and limping people are anything to go by.

Waylon grits his teeth and spurs himself to run faster. The skin of the soles of his feet are blistered and torn, revealing the path he takes with each bloodied step. He’s still tired, aching from all the hits he’s gotten, but his spirit is far from dampened.

He gets through three more long, separated hallways in that level before he sees a blockage. It’s big enough that it must’ve been made by Eddie, in an attempt to trap his victims in. He doesn’t have time to sort through it, unable to do much heavy lifting, so he needs an alternative route outside. He’s quite certain somewhere closeby must be an elevator, or a shaft of it at least, which means he must’ve gotten to the very outskirts of Eddie’s turf. 

Freedom is quite literally just mere feet away from him, but he doesn’t have time for a thorough search for a way outside. Eddie is gaining the distance rapidly. He needs a place to hide for now, let Eddie prowl and search, preferably ending up far, far away from Waylon.

Waylon turns to a small office room just before the barricade, slamming the door closed before pushing a bookshelf in front of it. 

‘’Darling!’’ Gluskin shouts from somewhere afar. ‘’You’re safe now. That ugly whore is nothing compared to your beauty. She’s dead now, she’s gone, I only have eyes for you, my sweet!’’

Barely suppressing a shudder, Waylon pulls an office desk to accompany the shelf, just in case. Since he’s naked and too vulnerable like that, he rips down the curtains framing the barred windows and wraps it around himself. With a finishing touch, he ties a rope around his waist to secure the piece around himself. It’s no better than a dress, making him uncomfortable, but he’ll bear it. Better that than nothing at all.

Besides. His history course in college made him dig himself deep into the wikipedia hole, and he knows people used to dress like this in ancient times. Regardless of gender. 

‘’Darling!’’ Gluskin pants heavily, banging on the barred door. It startles Waylon enough to take a few steps back, accidentally dropping a pen holder onto the floor. Revealing his hideout for certain. _Shit _. How the hell did the man know which room he ducked into?

‘’It’s alright. I’m here to take you home. There’s nobody but me here. Come out, sweetheart.’’

Panicked, Waylon searches around the room. It’s just a small little office with barely any places to tuck himself into. He chances a glance up. There’s a vent right above him. He could fit in there, he thinks. He’s small and lean, agile too. It would be a tight trip to the unknown, but at least it would be away from the Groom’s greedy hands.

He hoists himself up onto a chair and starts unscrewing the lid. It’s par impossible with his blood and sweat soaked fingers, the tremble in them almost too much for him to grasp at the tiny screws properly.

‘’I know, I know. I tend to have a scary effect on people when I’m rather upset,’’ Eddie says with a muffled voice, rattling the door knob. ‘’But I’m fine now. If you could just come out now, and let me apologize to you darling, then we could work on us together. I’ll do anything to gain back your forgiveness. I promise you, those whores are nothing to me.’’

The lid clangs to the floor. The air in the vent starts to push out with more fervor, making Waylon shiver.

Eddie stops for a moment of stifling silence. Waylon pulls himself up, boosting away from the chair and up into the vent. The chair topples down with a deafening clatter.

‘’Darling,’’ Eddie says into the quiet, his voice pitched low and dark with blooming anger. ‘’You aren’t trying to escape yet again, are you? Because that would make me very, very upset.’’

Waylon trembles with fear. His breath hitches, heart pushing overdrive. He starts crawling further into the pitch black metal tube, barely able to see how it curves upwards in a sharp angle. He’s not sure if he’ll fit through the tight turn.

There’s a roar, and then Gluskin starts to really beat down the door. The bookshelf rattles and sways, its contents dropping onto the floor. Waylon whimpers, quickly trying to gather his legs inside so that Eddie won’t have anything to grab onto.

A crack warns him just in time that Eddie is about to crush his way inside as he pulls himself tightly into a ball, as far into the vent as he can manage. The glass window of the door shatters as Eddie cracks it down. The table and the shelf screech as they’re pushed forward, the large wooden shelf toppling onto the floor as the groom forces a path through them. There’s a few seconds of Eddie huffing and puffing with exertion as he finally enters the room, heavy boots kicking away the debris. There’s a small _thump-thump _as Gluskin pats himself down.

Waylon barely allows himself to breathe.

There’s utmost silence as Waylon pictures Eddie taking in the room. There are no possible places to hide in, no small nook or corner to disappear into. Only old, dried out bloody streaks on the walls and the floor indicate that anyone ever occupied the space. The only furniture there already in scrambles.

The walls of the metal tube slowly start to freak Waylon out. They feel as if they’re closing in on him, trapping him, _suffocating _him. He has absolutely nowhere to escape now, if and _when _Eddie finds out where he’s hiding. It’s too dark, too stifling inside it. The AC has quieted down without him noticing it, but as he hears the measured, _amused _sounds Gluskin is making, he becomes all too aware how the central air has suddenly stopped.

The groom starts to hum. ‘’When I was a boy, my mother often said to me, get married boy and see how happy you will be. . .’’

A floorboard creaks underneath the man’s weight.  
‘’I have looked all over, but no girlie can I find, who seems to be just like the little girl I have in mind. . .’’

Waylon holds his breath. Eddie is standing just underneath where the head of the vent is gaping open, a glaringly obvious clue. Eddie’s voice quiets to a warm husky sound, ‘’I will have to look around until the right one I have found. . .’’

Squeezing his mouth and eyes shut, Waylon stifles a terrified whimper. If he moves now, he’ll reveal himself. That is, if Eddie hasn’t figured out just where his lithe little bride has wormed himself in.

The man’s head pops into the vent, his eyes gleaming in the dark. ‘’_ Found you _.’’

Waylon screams. He starts pushing into the too tight curve of the vent, his skin ripping open from the sharp edges of the metal. His skin feels raw and burning, the vent already dirty from years of unkempt. It creates all too loud sounds in the quiet asylum, drawing the attention of everyone within hearing distance of the ruckus. The metal creaks ominously as it tries to hold Waylon’s weight as he struggles. The escape attempt absolutely is futile though.

Eddie’s large hand comes to grip at his ankle, pulling him out of his hiding place. ‘’No need to be shy,’’ Gluskin grunts as he forcibly draws Waylon out. ‘’I’ll make an honest woman out of you, protect you from all the evils of the world. Come now, darling. Don’t you recognize the love of your life?’’

‘’Stop it, please. No, no no no no - ‘’

‘’There we go,’’ Eddie grunts, as Waylon drops into his strong arms. ‘’Your lovely little game of hide and seek has come to a fruitful end, darling. Such a fast little minx.’’

‘’Please,’’ Waylon pleads, struggling in the man’s hold. ‘’I don’t want to die, please, please, I don’t want to die - ‘’

‘’Oh, nonsense,’’ Eddie tuts. ‘’Nobody is dying tonight, silly girl. The other. . . _Occupants _of this household won’t touch a single lovely hair on your head. I’ll make sure of it.’’

Waylon moans, scared out of his wits. ‘’When you cut me open, I _will _die. I’ve seen you kill them, all the others, all of them - ‘’

Gluskin effortlessly snatches his arms so he cannot move, his grip tight as he jumps down from the table he used as a platform, and looks down at his prey in confusion. ‘’But darling, you don’t need an operation. You are already perfect.’’

The man’s eyes drop to Waylon’s flat chest, the curtain covering most of it. ‘’Although. . . You are a little lacking at the chest department, dear. I could easily cut just a little bit here and there, help you fill up your beautiful breasts so that our children may have something to feed off of.’’

‘’No,’’ Waylon moans. His thoughts race desperately. ‘’I don’t need that. Please. Don’t you - Don’t you like me_ as I am _?’’

‘’Oh, I do, I do darling,’’ the man croons softly. ‘’You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met. Such a wonderful woman to be the mother of our children. Our family will surely prosper.’’

With what seems to be superhuman strength, Eddie starts an easy stride back to his base. Other variants skitter around the hallways, running into shadows as Gluskin’s large frame engulfs the space.

‘’He gots his bride!’’ a voice shouts in triumph. ‘’The groom has found his wife,’’ other snarls. ‘’We’re free of him! No more bleeds, no more cuts!’’

‘’Get lost, you useless whores,’’ Eddie growls. ‘’I’ll gladly end every single one of your lives who dares to come between me and my darling.’’

‘’We shan’t, Mr. Gluskin,’’ one bows his burned head. ‘’We congratulate you.’’

As Eddie treks back, Waylon is left gazing over the groom’s shoulder the distance he gained towards freedom, slipping away with each step. Gluskin’s base is too deep into the asylum, in the very center of the floor they occupy, making the easy reach of the gardens just a faint memory. The danger lurks closer in the middle, where the computers and laboratorios are within mere feet away. The Engine’s reach more severe the closer to the electronics they stay.

As they get to the third double doors though, the lights on the furthest hallway start to flicker on and off. It makes him frown, the hair on the back of his neck rising in alert. The lamps blink unevenly, the sickly yellow hue dimming and brightening, up until there’s an electric sound of something malfunctioning. Other patients seem to be getting uneasy, restless, as they observe the same phenomenon that Waylon is. 

Something’s wrong.

Just as the lights turn off and engulf the first long hallway back into darkness, a huge shadowy figure steps out of the very office him and Eddie occupied not five minutes ago. Its gleaming eyes find Waylon’s as the entire part of that section gets swallowed into what seems like a black void.

And then the screaming starts.

Waylon can hear the splatter of blood and the blood-curdling screams of anguish as the unfortunate variants nearby are murdered brutally.

‘’Run! It’s the walrider! WALRIDER!’’ a variant shouts from within the section, prompting every single living and capable creature into fleeing to the safety of Eddie’s inner turf. 

Even Gluskin glances back uneasily, his long steps clattering faster against the hospital floor.

‘’Oh dear,’’ the groom mutters, tightening his hold of Waylon. 

Waylon can do nothing but stare in terror as the blinking lights pop and shut down with speed, the hulking mass strolling after the running prey. The walrider’s eyes stay fixed on Waylon’s gaze the entire time it takes Eddie to reach a familiar inner blockage. There are variants still running towards safety when Gluskin sets his bride down onto the floor and shuts the two double doors leading into the danger zone. The other patients scream and plead for mercy from Eddie, begging them to let them in, but Eddie doesn’t look like he hears them at all. He just pushes bookshelf after bookshelf in front, pulling even tables and heavy metal cabinets to finish the barricade off. He even _whistles _.

Waylon is too terrified to even keep himself upright as Eddie works, and slips onto his ass as he trembles and quivers in fear. He’s never felt this small and helpless before. This afraid of everything. Even Eddie Gluskin seems safer to him now, than that hallway that had undoubtedly lead to his freedom, if he had managed to pass it all the way to the yard.

He wonders, detachedly, if his little trip to the air ventilator had alerted the walrider into knowing where he was. If the systems are still up, which they _must be _, the AC would’ve sent an emergency signal to the main computer to alert the staff that there’s a blockage in the vent.

He shudders at the thought. The walrider would’ve ripped him apart without a second’s hesitation. Only Eddie’s devotion to his new bride kept him alive at this time.

‘’There. Now we’re safe yet again, darling,’’ Eddie says, crouching before Waylon. He offers his hand. ‘’Come now. This seems to be enough excitement for one day, is it not?’’

Waylon looks up. Gluskin’s glowing eyes seem warm now, even with the veins broken and his whites stained red, in comparison of the dead green eyes of the engine’s creation, of the walrider. The rash on the man’s face doesn’t seem so appalling now that he sees it in better light, at least, compared to some of the other inmates. This man, _the groom, _will surely protect him for as long as Waylon stays on his good side.

He only has two options. Stay with Gluskin and keep being protected from other variants and Murkoff agents as he plots his escape, or run now, into the unknown depths of the asylum to fight for his freedom with his own strength, possibly never even making it past the kitchens.

He glances at the blocked doors.

The screams are closer now. Many of the patients trapped on the other side are banging onto the doors futilely, pleading and crying out in fear. There’s something heavy in the air, buzzing in his ears. It makes him feel floaty and out of it, as if the mere presence of the engine is able to affect him and everyone around it.

If they don’t get away fast enough, the walrider might just be able to worm itself to this side of the barricade easily, if it is unsatisfied with the amount of victims it already has. If Waylon attempts to stay alive as long as he can, they need to leave immediately, before the effect of the engine’s poison makes Eddie lose his mind.

He takes the offered hand.

  
  



End file.
